Imagine Your OTP: Camie
by ElphieThroppDG28
Summary: Prompts from the Imagine Your OTP Tumblr that can either fit into the story or didn't really fit into the context of the Camieverse. Rating before each prompt is included, since not all of them are mature. The Syndicate is owned by Kay Mellor and the BBC.
1. Blind

_Prompt: Imagine you OTP having slow, loving sex after Person A experiences an accident leaving them blind and unable to see. Person B walks them through their love making, allowing Person A to touch and feel them as much as they desire while Person B does the same, showering them in love and care._

_Rating: T_

* * *

"Jamie?"

"I'm right here, Cathy." He sighed, kissing her forehead. "Just relax."

"I…I love you." She stared up at him with her vacant eyes; he felt his throat constrict, knowing she'd never be able to see him again.

"I love you, too." He felt his eyes burn, hurriedly wiping his tears away before she could feel them.

"Go on, now." She smiled sadly, her fingers gliding along the stubble on his cheek.

"You sure?"

Their eyes met, and for a moment he could have sworn she was really seeing him. "Kiss me."

He made sure to go slowly; he didn't want to startle her, not when she was still getting used to this. She met his rhythm after a while, and, most surprising to him, shared his euphoria when he came. They lay entangled in the sheets, Jamie hugging his wife to his chest, whispering, "I love you," until the two of them fell asleep.


	2. The Host

_Prompt: Not sure if there's an actual prompt for the scenario. Maybe it's something like, "Imagine Your OTP playing out a scene in one of their favorite books" or something._

_Heavily influenced by the novel The Host by Stephenie Meyer. I don't own it._

_For those of you who aren't familiar with The Host, this is near the end, when Wanda (one of the aliens in the story) decides to get taken out of the body she inhabits. Ian, one of the few remaining humans, has fallen in love with her and doesn't want her to go. The following is basically that scene._

_Rating: T_

* * *

I stare at him, unable to comprehend what I've just found out. "What?"

His eyes widen. "Cathy…don't…"

This wasn't happening. It couldn't. I fight back a sob. "You're not leaving. You can't leave me."

"I can't do this…you have to see that. I can't stay…he needs his body back."

No. No no no. I rush forward, my arms around his waist, my face buried in his chest. "NO!"

"Cathy, please don't." He holds me close, his hands weaving through my hair. "Don't…"

"You're not leaving," I repeat over and over through my tears. "You're not leaving, you're not leaving, you're not…"

He can't say anything more. I feel warm tears fall on my head as he cries with me.

"How long?" I demand after a period of silence. "How long have you known?"

He doesn't answer me. I look him in the eye, furious.

"How long, Jamie?"

He says nothing.

"Dammit, Jamie! Did someone threaten you? So help me, I'll hurt anyone who tries to -"

"CATHY." He shakes me a bit. "No one's forcing me to do anything." He sighs. "It's my decision. You don't know what it's like." His brow furrows. "He's trapped in his own body, but I can let him out. I want to give him his life back."

"What about you, Jamie? You deserve to live."

"Cathy…he needs me to do this."

"But I need _you_." I feel whiny, but I don't care. More tears fall down my face. "I love you, Jamie. Does that not matter to you?"

"Of course it does. But that's why I have to do this."

He had to give up this body because of me. Me and my selfishness. I pull away from him, my chest hurting.

"Is it so unbearable to have me love you, Jamie?! That's it, isn't it? If you want me to leave you alone, I will. You can go off with someone else. Just please don't go."

"Cathy, no." He walks toward me, his thumbs brushing my tears away. "I love you, too. Me, the little silver worm in the back of his neck. But…his body can't love you. It never will. It pulls me in two, and it…it's painful. For all of us."

Jamie…Jamie loves me. He loves me, too. I would shout in happiness if I wasn't so upset. I know he's right; this body loves another, and it can never love me. Not the way Jamie and I so desperately want.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine. I melt into him, deepening our kiss, feeling him sigh against my skin. "I can't let you go," I whisper, my hands tangling in his dark hair.

"We have to make sacrifices for the people we love," he answers, warm tears of his own falling into my hair.

I kiss his cheeks, brushing away his tears. "Don't cry, Jamie. You're staying. You're staying here with me."

He's not listening. He pulls my face back, moving to kiss down my jaw to my neck. "Eight full lives," he murmurs into the skin of my neck. "I've never found anyone I would follow, anyone I'd want to be with for our lifetimes. How is it that I've done that? You and I aren't the same. Why now? Why you?"

"It's a strange universe," I say breathlessly.

"The strangest." He shakes his head, looking at me. "I love you."

"Don't." I feel anger rising in my chest. "Don't say that like you're saying goodbye."

"I, the soul Jamie, love you, Cathy, and that will never change, no matter what happens. Even if I were a Bear or a Dolphin, or a Flower, it wouldn't matter. I'd never forget you. I'll always love you."

He traces his fingers down my face. I shake my head. "You're not going anywhere, Jamie. I won't let you."

"I…"

"No." I grab his face, kissing him hard. I feel him groan into my lips before I pull away. "Good or bad?"

"Good," he gasps.

"That's what I thought." I pull him to me again, and soon our tongues dance together, both of us continually pulling the other closer. He starts to whisper against me. "Cathy…Cathy…"

* * *

"Cathy, darling…wake up."

Her eyes flew open, something falling to the floor with a soft thud. "Hmm?"

"You were sleeping." Jamie laughed. "Reading knocked you out, I see."

"I swore I wouldn't fall asleep." She sighed. "I didn't get much sleep last night." She put a hand on her round stomach. "Little one's starting to kick."

Jamie picked up her book and placed it on the arm of the couch. "So what were you dreaming about? Your eyes were moving behind your lids."

She glanced at her book, giggling. "You were a Soul. It was your body, but…it wasn't. You were the alien inhabiting it. And you had to give the body back, but I…I didn't want you to."

"Oh, my God, did you say that one line? The one you love so much." His eyes hardened. "'You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.'"

She laughed. "No, actually. But we snogged at the end."

"Was I any good?" He sat beside her.

"Of course you were."

"Really?"

"Yes, Jamie, even as a parasitic worm, you were a great kisser."

He grinned lopsidedly, causing her to laugh again, and she tugged him toward her by his shirt collar.


	3. Morning After

_Prompt: Imagine your OTP waking up after having sex the first time the night before. Person A looks over at Person B, finally fully realizing how perfect they actually are. And how cute they look when they're asleep._

_So the alternate version of the morning after their wedding night._

_Rating: T_

* * *

Jamie blinked a few times, groaning softly and shifting between the sheets. It was a little after seven in the morning, and he had every intention of going back to sleep. He yawned, trying to roll over; he found he couldn't, not with Cathy right there.

He paused for a moment, the previous day rushing back to him. There was now a golden ring on his left hand, and the two of them were under the covers of a hotel bed. Cathy had her head on his bare chest, his arms holding her to him. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks when he realized that they were both naked.

Jamie watched her, completely forgetting that he was tired. He loved how calm she was when she was asleep, how lovely she looked with her hair pushed back from her face. He gently stroked her back, studying the way her eyelashes fanned out upon her soft pink cheeks.

She was absolutely beautiful, and she was his. His heart pounded at the thought. They were married now, husband and wife, together for the rest of their lives. He felt himself blush again as he remembered the previous night: slowly undressing, coming together, crying out in a tangle of love and bliss.

Cathy moaned quietly, stirring slightly before settling back to sleep again. Jamie ran his fingers through his hair, the soft strands tickling his chest. He kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek there and sighing in contentment.

He couldn't wake her, not yet. He'd let her rest for as long as she needed. He was fine with laying here with her in his arms, loving how she perfectly fit there. They had an entire two weeks to get out of bed; they could spend one day here together.


	4. Alcove

_Prompt: Imagine Person A of your OTP being absolutely terrified of intimacy, trying to put on a show of wanting it, until Person B confronts them about it and their fears come out. Person B then reassures them and promises to only do what feels comfortable for Person A, and when they finally do have sex, Person A doesn't have any fears or worries about it._

_I actually wrote this a while back as an AU Camie sort of thing._

_Rating: M. Mature eyes only._

* * *

They ducked into the alcove, never breaking the kiss, arms and tongues tangling together. Jamie groaned as his hands found their way to her chest, his pants straining uncomfortably in the front.

Cathy broke away first, face flushed and eyes wild. He realized where his hands were, and immediately dropped them. "I…sorry…"

"No…it's fine."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't mind."

He nodded. "You…um…do you want to…keep going?"

He knew she'd say no, probably slap him and storm off, offended he'd even ask that. But there was something about her that drew him in, something she'd always had, even when they were younger; he knew he was falling hard for her, and rather than pull himself away, he found he'd rather let himself be burned.

She looked him over for a moment, finally meeting his eyes and, with a deep breath, said, "Okay."

"What?"

"I said, okay." She kicked off her shoes. "Let's keep going."

"You sure?" Jamie felt his mouth run dry as he watched her tug down her nylons, followed by her panties. "I mean, have you done this before?"

"Yes, I have." She straightened, slowly approaching him. "Last year, over the Christmas holidays. My boyfriend and I were one of the last to leave for home." She leaned closer, unbuttoning his shirt and trailing her fingers over his chest.

"You mean...you've..."

"What, goody-goody Catherine can't make her own decisions? I'm old enough to know what I want." Her voice dropped at the end of her sentence as he pulled her against him, kissing her fiercely and backing toward the wall.

"Just never thought you'd had it in you." He started to unbutton his pants. "I mean, I haven't..." He froze, his eyes widening. "Shit..."

"You haven't what?"

He was silent, his face burning. There was a long pause before Cathy spoke again.

"This is your first time, isn't it, Jamie?"

He shrugged a little. "Say anything to anyone, and you'll regret it."

"I think that's sweet." She lifted his chin so he could meet her gaze. "I don't meet many guys who are willing to wait."

"Just haven't...you know...felt the need to..." He let out a breath. "I feel like I can never do anything right, you know? I'm always screwing something up. And there was one point, about a year ago, when I literally had nothing left to call my own. Nothing except...this. And I promised myself that I wasn't going to ruin things again. Not like with my dad, not like with my mates and their drugs. I promised that I'd only do it if it wasn't completely out of desire. I'd only do it if I really...you know...loved and trusted the woman I was giving it to."

And there it was. He'd never said any of that before, and now she knew. A silence hung over them, and he was about to walk out in embarrassment when she said, almost in a whisper, "I understand."

"No, you don't. No one does."

"You're right…I don't understand. Not completely." She sighed. "But one thing I do understand is that I'm not doing this just because I already have." She regarded him with kind eyes. "I care, Jamie. I care about you a lot more than I thought I would. And I…I want you to know that I'm honored you'd choose me to share this with. But are...are you sure you want to...?"

He kissed her again, harder. "There's no one else I'd trust with it."

He finally worked himself free of his pants and boxers, and lifted her up, gently pressing her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his hips and lifted the hem of her dress, and he swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. He could hurt her, or maybe he'd miss, or not even fit -

"Jamie?" Her voice was barely more than a breath, her grip on his shoulders tightening. "You won't hurt me." She smiled. "Everything's going to be alright."

He nodded, taking a deep breath and positioning himself. He looked up at her again, and with one last, "It's alright" from her, he gently slid in.

He couldn't think straight, and he heard her gasp quietly, making him pause, but he didn't want to, because fuck this felt amazing, just _amazing_. "Am I…hurting…you?"

She shook her head. "No…keep…going."

He pushed all the way in, and this time they both sighed, and he had to rest his forehead on her shoulder, and shit he wasn't sure if he could hold back any longer, she just felt so hot and wet and soft and fuck it if he could even form a coherent sentence because he was actually DOING THIS WITH HER and it felt right.

"You're…_tight_," he said, his teeth gritted.

"I've only done this once, remember?" She gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "You're…not as big as I thought you'd be."

"Are…all guys…supposed to be?"

"No…it's nice, though." She kissed him gently. "It feels nice."

"I can guarantee…you feel…a lot better…than nice…" He sucked in a breath, his eyes half-lidded.

She giggled. "How about you start moving before I get too heavy for you, yeah?"

He nodded. "That's…probably a good idea." He leaned into her lips and whispered, "Let me know if I should stop, okay?"

She shook her head. "Jamie, this is _your _first time. You're going to let _me _know if _you _want to stop."

"I don't-"

Cathy ground her hips into his, emitting an aroused cry from him; he felt himself twitch within her. "You're going to let me know, understand?"

He nodded, biting his lip.

"Alright, then."

He began to move, slowly at first, not wanting to let go too soon. He had to keep nipping his tongue to make sure he didn't get too lost in his movements, and he focused on her, what she liked and how she moved underneath him. Anything to keep from thinking about how Goddamn good it felt to be within her body, to continuously thrust, to fight the growing coil in his belly –

"J-Jamie." Cathy's legs were tight around him, her eyes dark and her voice low.

"Faster?" he gasped out.

She nodded her response, crashing her lips to his as he increased his thrusts.

All too soon, she began to make the cutest little whimpers, and he somehow knew that meant she was close. Shifting her weight, he angled her higher up, reaching between them to brush her sweet spot. He smirked when she started to gasp, breathily moaning as he gently fingered her. Her inner muscles tightened, and with one last quiet sigh, she relaxed against him, pulsating around him in quick bursts, her cheek on his shoulder and her lips on his ear.

He kept moving for another moment before he let out a guttural sound from his throat, a hot jolt shooting through him as he buried himself deeper within her. Her muscles continued to clench around him, heightening the heat that was still in the pit of his stomach. He finally stilled himself, pressing her to the wall, his forehead in her hair.

"Cathy?"

"Mmm?"

He lifted his head a bit. "You…you okay?"

"Yeah." She looked up, a blissful smile on her face. "You?"

"Fantastic."

"You…you wanna sit? You seem like…"

"Oh." He gently pulled out, setting her down before turning his back to the wall and collapsing, catching his breath. "God…that was…wow."

Cathy joined him on the ground. "Did you…like it, then?"

"I don't have…much of a comparison. But it…sure as hell…beats jerking off…to porn DVDs."

"So I'm better than porn DVDs?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. You're…fuck. That was fantastic."

"It was. Better than my first. Then again, it was his first, so I can't really blame him for that." She stared ahead. "Man, that was…fucking amazing."

"Yeah…" He frowned. "Cathy?"

"Yes?"

"You…I…we didn't use…are you on…?"

"Oh…I hadn't thought of that." She froze for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not going to worry."

"What? Cathy, we didn't…you could…"

"If it happens, it happens." She looked at him. "I'm not expecting you to marry me or anything if it does. But I'll be fine. My parents won't kick me out, Emma has space in her house…things will be fine."

"I…I could help, if…"

"You would?"

"Well, it's…I'm the one who…"

"Just say it, Jamie."

"If I get you pregnant, I'm going to help." He swallowed. "Happy?"

She snuggled closer to him. "Yes. Thank you, Jamie."

He chuckled. "Thank you for making this…special."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence for a few moments before they dressed themselves and headed back to the ballroom.


	5. Baby Bump

_Imagine your OTP lying in bed together. Person B is a couple months pregnant and is lightly showing and Person A is gently stroking their stomach while planting kisses on Person B's lips and cheeks._

_Rating: K_

* * *

Cathy walked into the bedroom, stumbling a bit. She'd been up early with morning sickness, and hadn't been able to take a nap all day. She sighed heavily, stopping at the mirror in the corner and staring down at her rounded stomach. Even her nightgown felt snug around the middle, and she shifted uncomfortably, ready to tear it off, regardless if she hated how her figure had changed in the last few weeks.

"And how are you doing tonight, Mrs Bradley?" Jamie came in, wrapping his arms around her middle and kissing the nape of her neck. "Good, I hope?"

She snorted. "What do you think?"

"That means bad, right?"

She shrugged out of his hold, sitting on her side of the bed. "It's just been a long day, Jamie." She shook her head. "And to think, I have seven more months of this."

He sat next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "You need me to do anything?" he whispered against her cheek as he kissed his way down to her pulse point.

"Unless you can fast-forward to after the baby's born, no." She frowned. "I feel huge, you know that? It hasn't even been a full two months, and look at me. I'm a zeppelin."

"Cathy, you are _not _a zeppelin."

"Yes I am." She flopped back, pulling the covers up around her stomach. She felt her eyes prick with tears. "I'll only get bigger, and keep getting sick, and soon I'll start to complain even more."

"So?"

"So you'll get annoyed, and I'll get annoyed, and we'll start fighting. I don't want to fight with you, Jamie, but I know it'll happen."

"Maybe so." He lay next to her, joining her under the covers. "But that's what we have to deal with. And I'm willing to go through all that." He placed a hand on her stomach. "It'll be fine."

"I'm just tired, Jamie. I can't begin to imagine...I mean..."

"Shhh." He kissed her forehead. "Just think about seventh months from now. We'll be home, and our son or daughter's going to be down the hallway." He slowly moved his hand up and down the fabric-covered bump. "And we'll be sleeping soundly in here, you cradled in my arms, and I just might have to tell you how beautiful you are."

"Well, I don't feel beautiful."

"You are." He kissed both of her cheeks. "You always are." He gave her a lingering kiss on her lips, still stroking her belly. "Right now you're absolutely gorgeous."

"How am I when I looked like I swallowed a balloon?"

"I don't see it that way." He kissed her again, longer, softer. "You're carrying our child. _Our child_." He grinned at her. "We're having a kid, and we get to watch him or her grow, and that makes me all the more thankful that we're together."

Cathy looked at him, a hint of a smile on her face, one of her hands covering the one that was rubbing her stomach. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course I do." He kissed her once more, humming in contentment. "And you don't have to worry. I'm right here."

They fell asleep soon after, both keeping a hand on her stomach.


	6. AU 1

_So for a while I was wondering about what would happen if Cathy really was part of the canon story. Most likely, she'd be a background character; she'd probably live in Leeds with her parents or Emma, and she'd give Bob occasional visits and be one of those really tentative, almost-subtle love interests to Jamie (at least I think that's how it would work). And this got me thinking about what would happen as a result of that…_

_While I don't have the energy at the moment to go through and document everything in detail, I have been meaning to watch the tail end of Episode 5 (no matter how much it hurts) and write an alternate version._

_I like to think in this alternate world, Cathy and Jamie were still childhood friends, and the mistletoe kiss still happened; however, her prominence in the lottery events is downplayed, as she isn't the focus and she's still in school. However, being able to see Jamie on a semi-regular basis probably stirs some feelings in her, and because she's not directly involved with all the drama, she doesn't know everything that's going on in detail._

_So in this little scene, I've decided that she goes to Jamie's club and confesses she'd like to start something with him, despite her reservations about it. And the heartbreaking thing about it is that I think, if Kay Mellor did go with this angle and have a childhood sweetheart for Jamie, she'd totally blindside everyone with the inspector coming in and arresting him._

_Which is exactly what I'm doing here._

_Rating: T_

* * *

He'd done it.

He couldn't believe it, but he'd done it.

No more drugs, no more boss…and no more worry.

Life really was sweet.

"People like that shouldn't get away with it," he said proudly.

Tanya was following him, agitated. "They could've had guns or…or anything!"

"Yeah…they're proper thugs."

She grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. "You put my life in danger without telling me?"

Wasn't it obvious why he had? "I wanted you to see what happens to bullies."

"Yeah, well…you should've asked me!"

_Don't worry about it, Jamie. She'll thank you later._

She was saying something else, something about getting paid and not minding picking up his mum's car. Did he really have to spell this out for her?

"How much do you want?"

"To do what?"

"I'll give you more money!" He breathed in, preparing himself. "Listen, I don't want you waiting tables anymore, alright? I think you're better than that. I'd like to look after you." And now he couldn't stop himself, the words just kept coming. "You can continue with your studies…but I'm buying us a penthouse. I'd…I'd like you to move in with me."

She was silent; never a good sign.

"Why…would I want to do that? I don't even know you!"

And like that, she was gone.

Gone like Amy, gone like Debbie, gone like Mel.

His bird. What a fitting name.

He sat heavily on the bar stool, his face in his hand, slowly pulling at the underside of his eyes. Hadn't he done everything right? Shown her he had money, that he could provide for her, hell, even go so far as to protect her? What more did she want?

"Jamie?"

"Not now, Wayne."

"There's a little girl at the door, says she knows you. Won't let her in, though, doesn't look like she's legal."

He sighed. "Tell her to sod off, then."

"She won't. Keeps insisting that I let her in."

"She give you her name?"

"Yeah…Cathy Davies."

And suddenly, his heart wasn't so broken anymore.

"Send her in."

"Jamie, she's-"

"She's old enough. Send her in."

Wayne looked like he wanted to do otherwise, but reluctantly walked out of sight, reappearing a few seconds later with Cathy in tow. Her cheeks and nose were red from the cold; how long had he kept her out there?

"You sure she's-"

"Thanks, mate." He nodded curtly, signalling the conversation was over. Wayne went back behind the bar, shaking his head.

Jamie turned back to look at Cathy. God, how was it that she seemed to show up every time he needed someone? How did she know? He shook the thought from his mind, realizing that she was looking at him nervously.

"Cathy? You alright?"

"Yeah…just a bit cold." She glanced nervously around, flinching when a waitress walked behind her. "Never been to one of these before."

"Not that great, to be honest." He shrugged. "But it pays well. So what are you doin' here?"

She swallowed. "Well, I…I wanted to visit. You know…see how you're doing." She scuffed her foot. "Uncle Bob's back."

"Yeah. He was at Stu's earlier. He looks great."

"Yeah."

"Where were you?"

"English class."

"Ah."

She tugged at a strand of hair poking out of her hat. "Jamie…I…I really…isn't there somewhere else we can talk?"

Yes. There was. His flat. But he didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be tempted to strip her and suck on her neck and drag her to his room and…

"What do you want? No one's listening."

"It's…kind of…personal."

"Can't leave. Gotta supervise tonight." It was a rubbish excuse, but he wasn't going to his flat. Not now.

"Can…" She swallowed. "Can I whisper it, then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "…Alright."

She moved closer, standing right in front of him. She gently placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning in until her lips brushed against his ear, causing his breathing to hitch for a moment.

"I think I'm in love with you."

And then his heart was beating in his throat, a strong charge shooting down his spine. She backed away, a light blush lingering on her cheeks, unable to look at him. He found the strength to get to his feet, seeing her in a way he hadn't before.

No. He had. Last Christmas, under the mistletoe, before his job interview. There'd been something, a little spark. But it had died quickly; she'd gone back to her world, he to his. Nothing to change, nothing to pursue.

And then she'd come back to live here, acting as if nothing had happened, occasionally giving him comfort or engaging in an argument. She'd sat on the park bench with him, talking about how things would be different with money. He'd held her close at the hotel, his hands cradling her waist, his eyes on hers as they danced.

She never judged him, never told him he was a failure, never turned her back. Sure, she'd piss him off sometimes, telling him what to do, frowning disapprovingly, being everything that made her _Cathy_. But he knew she'd be there, no matter what. She wouldn't leave him.

She wouldn't leave him…

He focused on her, still tugging at the red-blond hair that poked out under her cloche hat. He raised his hand to her chin, gently raising it so she could look at him. There was uncertainty in her eyes; doubt about what she'd said. He felt his mouth turn up at the corners a bit, and he lightly ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. The blush darkened, warming his skin.

"You mean that?" he asked quietly, their noses touching slightly.

She nodded; he could feel her shaking under his touch. His eyes fell half-lidded as he moved even closer, his next words a whisper against her skin.

"You don't have to be afraid."

And suddenly he was softly kissing her, one hand cupping her face, a sigh reaching his ears, and he didn't know if it was hers or his own, or maybe it was both of them, because he'd waited so very long to kiss her again, and he didn't even care that he was in the middle of a night club, all that mattered was that she was in his arms and kissing him back and trailing her fingers into his hair, and another shock went up his back-

He had to pull away to breathe, and he waited for her to open her eyes. They were wide, but there wasn't a trace of fear in them. She was looking at him in the way he'd hoped someone would one day, someone who wanted to be with him. Someone who _needed_ to be with him.

He wouldn't scare her off. He had to go slowly, follow her lead, do what she wanted. He could talk to her about it later, about how things would go, what they would do. She was still in school, but she could always move in with him, maybe. Even if she didn't, he'd make sure to buy her and Emma a better house, one closer to him. He'd sell this place and go into something else, and maybe if things turned out, he could…

His grip on her tightened. The inspector was back.

"Wait here for a minute, okay?" He gave her a small smile before walking toward the officer, his mood suddenly very serious.

"Job well done, Officer. Come here to give me a reward?"

"James Andrew Bradley, I'm arresting you on suspicion of armed robbery and grievous bodily harm."

"WHAT?" No, this wasn't happening. This couldn't happen.

It was Stuart. Stuart had done this. That bastard had ratted them out. Fuck. What was he going to do?

He turned, walking toward the back exit. He passed Cathy, glancing at her curious expression once more before leaving the building.

That was the last time he saw her that night.

* * *

Jamie was right in thinking Cathy wouldn't leave him. Even through the weeks he was in the hospital, and through the year he was in jail, she was patient, visiting him and giving him something to look forward to. He knew he was causing her pain, but she hardly complained, and if she was upset, she'd never show it in front of him.

And once he was released from jail, they finally did get the chance to date. She was finishing up uni before she moved on to the graduate program, but she made time to see him, and the year they were together was a change he knew he needed. It was nice to feel wanted, to be able to lean on someone else.

Eventually, he was able to look beyond where they were now, and see her walking down the aisle in a white dress, or sleeping naked in his arms every night, or gently rocking a baby in her arms. It scared him, to be sure, but somehow he knew it had to happen.

Jamie Bradley was what one would call a wanderer, someone who didn't stay in one place for very long, someone who made a lot of mistakes and only cared for himself. He knew that there had to be something that would anchor him and help him through the mess he called his life. He'd been thoroughly convinced that he'd never be able to find it.

Now, sitting in front of the fireplace in his flat, holding Cathy, his wife, to his side, and knowing their two children were sound asleep upstairs, he couldn't help but smile.


	7. AU 2

_Here's the second (technically third) AU Syndicate oneshot. I decided to try this from Cathy's POV this time, since I wrote for Jamie last time._

_Rating: K+_

* * *

South Africa. It was so far away. How did they know this doctor was legit? How did they know he was going to survive?

Cathy pursed her lips, glancing over at where Bob was talking with Denise and Leanne. This was the only option he had. That was enough, wasn't it? She knew it should be.

Then why couldn't she feel relieved?

"Cathy?" Emma snapped her fingers in front of her younger sister's face. "You okay?"

"Hmm?"

"You want to turn in? You look exhausted."

She shook her head. "No, I'm…fine." She smoothed the skirt of her dress, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "Just got a lot on my mind."

Emma sighed, putting a hand on Cathy's shoulder. "It'll be alright, Cathy. He's going to be fine."

"I know."

"The doctors know what they're doing. Things will be fine. Uncle Bob's strong, you know that."

"I know."

Emma sighed again. "You sure you don't want to head up? I'd feel bad that he and Annie are paying for part of our room if we don't even use it."

"Nah." Cathy glanced around the room. "I'm fine. Just need to relax for a moment."

Her eyes traveled and finally fell on Jamie Bradley, much to her dismay. She'd been eyeing him the entire night, trying to avert her attention with little avail. Seeing him every time she visited Bob at Right Buy U did nothing to assuage the nervousness that she had now come to associate with him. She wasn't even entirely sure why she got like that around him. He was a jerk, plain and simple.

And yet…

That bloody kiss under the mistletoe was still on her mind almost a year later. It meant nothing - that was what she told herself. They each wanted something completely different out of life; they were childhood friends, nothing more. No matter how nice his hair looked, or how sexy he looked in his new suit, or how adorable his lopsided smile was.

Or how his date flung herself over him and attacked his mouth like an excitable lapdog.

She turned away, taking a large gulp of water. She wasn't going to think about it. He was taken, and that was that.

"So…when did Fred say he was coming back?" Cathy asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"A couple of weeks." Emma shrugged. "I don't mind that he's away, honestly. Mum's more concerned, and I'm the one home with the twins. I hope they're okay with me being away for one night, poor dears."

"They'll be fine, Emma. I think you can have one night to yourself."

"Yeah…" Emma was texting frantically. "It's…great…" She stood. "I'm going to call Ronnie, make sure everything's going well. I'll be back, okay?"

Cathy didn't even try to stop her sister from racing out of the ballroom. She circled the rim of her glass with her thumb, listening as the classical music started up again, slower and softer than it had been. Looking around, she saw several couples walk onto the large square parquet-tiled floor in the middle of the room and immediately felt her heart sink. She picked at her cuticles, determined not to look up again.

It didn't look like Emma was coming back soon, and Cathy figured it was time to head back to their room. She fished around in her purse for her key when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, spilling most of the contents onto the floor. She felt her cheeks grow red as she bent down to gather her things, her blush deepening when she recognized the hands that were helping her.

"I'm assuming you'll want these back, correct?" Jamie smirked, holding out a few tampons.

Cathy hastily grabbed and stuffed them back in her purse. "Thanks," she muttered, sitting back in her seat and tossing her purse on the table (with the zipper closed, of course).

"You enjoying yourself?"

"I suppose." She faked a yawn. "I was about to head up to my room, actually. Getting late."

"Right." His smirk widened. "Well, before you turn in, I wanted to ask you something."

She toed the carpet, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Yeah, what?"

"Well, seeing as how the hour grows late and the fair maiden is about to take off, I wanted to ask if you would do me the honor of sharing one last dance with me."

Cathy froze, forgetting to breathe for a moment. She slowly looked at Jamie, who was still smiling at her in that devious way. She took a deep breath, clearing her throat.

"I believe I will have to decline," she said, carefully matching his tone. "I'm afraid to say that the kind gentleman before me seems to have forgotten he's the escort a different woman tonight."

"Not to be rude, miss, but I do believe that the woman in question-" He turned to his date, who was slumped in a chair and drooling rather unattractively onto the tablecloth in front of her "-is immobilized at the moment."

"Well, the gentleman's duty is to escort her to their room."

"Not if the gentleman wishes to continue eating and drinking and being merry."

"Yes, but that would make him a rather brutish sort of man, now wouldn't it?"

"The gentleman does not pay mind to what others may think of him."

She arched an eyebrow. "Well, what if the maiden you've requested to dance with refuses you? What if she were to turn her back and go up to bed?"

Jamie's gaze hardened. "The gentleman would be very disappointed, to be honest. He hasn't spoken with the maiden all night."

"He's speaking with her now, is he not?"

"Touche, my dear." He winked. "But he would like to speak with her in a much less…formal setting."

_No, I can't do this._

_Just say yes, you dolt! He wants to dance, just say yes!_

_But he's being very rude to his date…_

_So? It's JAMIE. Just accept and don't think about it!_

She looked down at her folded hands, and then up at Jamie. "The maiden would love to share a dance with the gentleman," she said quietly.

His face broke out in a genuine smile, and she found herself smiling, as well. He held out his hand, and she allowed him to lead her to to the middle of the room, trying not to look at anyone who might be staring. She tentatively circled his shoulders with her arms after he gently took hold of her waist, and they began to sway back and forth.

"Sorry I don't know how to dance properly," he said. "Never was one for ballroom stuff."

"It's…it's fine," she replied to his chest. She studied the purple paisley design on his shirt, the first two buttons undone and part of his collarbone exposed. Her cheeks flushed again, and she instead focused on a spot just over his shoulder.

"So how has Miss Cathy been? Haven't seen you since Denise's mum's do. They keeping you busy at that fancy school of yours?"

"More or less. Just had midterms, so I've been holed up in the library."

"So that's where you've been hiding out." He raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

"You…you were?"

He shrugged a bit. "Well, I'm used to seeing you around, so…yeah."

She frowned, her fingers lightly brushing the skin at the back of his neck. "Oh. I, um…I sort of got used to it, as well. Seeing you. And…I guess I could say I…um…"

He looked at her expectantly, and she sighed.

"I missed seeing you, I suppose."

She felt his shoulders shake as he chuckled, and his gentle grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer. She realized that her forehead was resting against his, and there was no way she could avert her gaze from him now.

"You missed me, huh?"

She nodded slightly, knowing she couldn't say otherwise, not with him this close.

"Well, I think you should know…" He pulled away, twirling her a few times and then dipping her. Cathy squeaked in surprise as he pulled her back to his chest. "…that I sort of started to miss you, too."

She blinked, unable to look away from him even if she wanted to. She was about to ask him to repeat himself - he couldn't have said that, Jamie Bradley would never say that. He didn't miss anyone. He only cared about himself.

But as they continued to sway and keep their gazes steady, she found it harder to find a trace of doubt in his expression, a sign that he didn't mean it. For once, he was being serious about something. For once, Jamie was telling her the truth. She smiled a little, leaning her forehead against his again, sighing in contentment. She could just stay here for the rest of the night, in his arms, so very close together -

And that was when the song ended. Jamie chuckled again, looking a bit disappointed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She straightened. "I suppose that I, er, should be…I mean, I really need to…"

"Oh." His face fell. "Er…good night, then."

She bit her lip, brow furrowing as they walked back to the table. "Yeah…" She grabbed her purse. "Good night."

Jamie rocked on his heels, blowing air out of his mouth. "I'll just…um…" He spun around, walking across the room, where his date was somewhat conscious now.

She wasn't going to be upset about this. Just because he'd danced with her and told her nice things, it didn't mean he liked her. As much as she wished the opposite were true, she wasn't going to pursue this.

She stood, walking to where Emma was now talking with Stuart and one of Bob's sons. "I'm gonna head up. The twins alright?"

"Ronnie says they've been well-behaved all night." Emma smiled. "I'll see you in about an hour."

Cathy made her way over to Bob and Anni, giving them both a hug and wishing them well in South Africa. She made sure to hang on a bit when she embraced her uncle, and then walked out into the hallway.

She had walked a few steps when her phone went off. The icon for a new message flashed on the screen; upon opening it, she couldn't fight the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

_Meet me at the fountain in five minutes. ~Jamie_

* * *

On the second floor of the hotel, there was a large fountain in one of the drawing rooms. No one had bothered to ask why it was there, instead tossing coins and splashing each other and trying to dip their feet in without getting caught.

Cathy had glanced at it heading up to her room, but hadn't actually gone in to look at it close up. It was a large white marble structure, with several bowls on the pinnacle that caught and dropped the water into the base, which was square-shaped. The bottom sparkled with an assortment of coins, many of which were one-pence pieces.

Surprisingly, no one was around at the moment, possibly because it was late in the evening. Still, Cathy found herself peering over her shoulder as she slid her heels off and slid her feet into the water, which wasn't as cold as she'd predicted. The water went almost to her knees if her feet were on the very bottom.

She sat for a moment, eyes closed, her face being periodically sprayed with a droplet water. The steady sound of the fountain was calming, and she breathed in deeply, forgetting what had brought her here in the first place.

"Enjoying ourselves?"

She jumped, falling backward into someone, her feet flying up and throwing drops of water every which way. She heard Jamie laugh, settling her back on the edge and taking a place beside her.

"Thanks for that," she mumbled, wiping her face free of water.

"Sorry. Wanted to make sure you knew I was here." He kicked off his shoes and socks, placing his feet in the water. "Nice, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I'm glad no one's here right now. I don't think I could afford to be kicked out."

"They wouldn't kick you out. They'd chase us out with pitchforks, maybe, if we're unlucky."

She giggled. "So…why here?"

"It's quiet, at least compared to downstairs." He moved his feet a bit, making ripples on the surface. "And I wanted to say good night without all the noise."

"And so your date wouldn't suspect, right?"

Jamie snorted. "She's so plastered, I could snog you right in front of her and she wouldn't even notice."

Cathy's cheeks tinted pink, and she wrung her hands in her lap. "So…how long have you been together?"

"A few hours."

Her head whipped toward him. "Really?"

"What, you think it's serious?" He laughed again. "I just needed someone to bring tonight, that's all."

"Oh."

"You thought otherwise?"

She felt her face grow warmer. "No…of course not."

"Well, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You showed up with your sister. I thought you'd be with someone by now."

"I…I didn't…want to." She fixed her eyes on a particularly shiny pence coin. "Best not get any ideas."

Silence fell over them for a few moments. Jamie took one of her hands in his; she felt her skin jump and tingle at the contact.

"Suppose I should go back down," he finally said. "Don't want anyone wondering where I am, not that they would."

"I…should get to bed. Emma's expecting me soon."

Neither of them moved, and once again she found herself lost in his eyes. They were awfully close now, and she wasn't entirely sure if it was her instincts or the situation or just _him _that made her grab his suit collar, lean forward, and kiss him. She gently pressed their lips together, feeling him cup her cheek and smile into her mouth. They pulled away, neither of them saying anything.

Cathy finally cleared her throat, retrieving her shoes. "Um…good night, Jamie."

"Good…good night."

She nodded, walking quickly out of the room and down the hall. It wasn't until she turned the corner that she ran the rest of the way to her room, spinning and smiling and giggling.


	8. Shower

_Imagine your OTP taking a shower together. Person A and B agree to wash each others hair. They don't realize that Person A is too tall for Person B to reach the top of their head, so Person A picks up Person B, their legs wrapped around Person A's wet naked body._

_Rating: T, heavily leaning towards M. _

* * *

"Jamie?" Cathy raised her eyebrows. "I, er…I can't really…"

"Oh, right."

"You mind, bending do-" She yelped. "Jamie, what are you…"

He had picked her up, pushing her gently against the wall and causing her to wrap her legs around his waist. "Better, my darling?" he asked with a smirk.

"Much."

"You can go ahead, then."

She tried to focus on scrubbing her husband's hair, but she could feel his arousal steadily growing against her stomach. She waited for him to rinse the shampoo out, expecting him to allow her to loosen her grip. As soon as he was finished, he kissed her hard, grinding their hips together.

"You thought I'd let you get away that easily?" he murmured.

She sighed into his lips, unable to respond. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he shifted her higher, moans twining together as he easily pushed into her.

"Fuck." He grunted, holding himself still.

"What?"

"First time…shower…" He sucked in a breath. "Damn, you feel amazing…"

"Go on and move," she said, her voice low, bringing his face to hers.

They spent the next few moments lost in steam and sweat, the stream of water continuing to fall as they met each other's thrusts. She finished first this time, practically yanking the hair from his head. She tightened her legs around his waist when he came, kissing him and loving the way his moans vibrated her lips.

"Remind me why we've never done this before?" she gasped out as he turned off the water, setting her down on the towels that were scattered on the floor.

"Never occurred to me." He grinned. "You want me to fuck you in the shower more often, then?"

"Jamie, that wasn't _fucking_."

"Sure it was."

"We had sex. We didn't fuck."

"And the difference is?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'd like you to fuck me in the shower more often."

He laughed, kissing her. "Whatever my darling desires."


	9. On The Dot

_Imagine person A trying to apologize after doing something person B didn't like, after a long time not talking to each other. Then person B interrupts person A with a kiss. As long as the kiss finish, they keep looking eye to eye for a long time and then kiss again._

_Written by Gina_

_Rating: K+_

* * *

It had been exactly twenty-nine and a half minutes since they had spoken to each other – he had counted.

So maybe he had gone a bit far. But he hadn't meant to, and certainly that constitutes for immediate forgiveness. But, if he was completely honest with himself, it really wasn't his place to childishly argue like he had, especially after seeing how upset she got.

_Twenty-nine minutes_. Certainly he had given her enough space. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn't care anymore.

Maybe she was still pissed at him for trying to make jokes even as she was scolding him.

Jamie had been anxiously tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair for the entirety of this time, and he still couldn't bring himself to get up. He had made attempts, mind you, but it's a bit difficult to just throw yourself to your knees and apologize after you just had stomped out of a conversation with a pout and folded arms. Even after, well, twenty-nine minutes.

And it would be a full half-hour right about… now.

Jamie sighed, forcing his arms to launch him from his seat and to a standing position. He let out a breath, flexing his fingers by his side. And after a few seconds of merely standing there he pivoted sharply on his heel and made his way stiffly out of the living room and to their bedroom.

He tried his hardest not to look awkward, especially since one of the main reasons he hadn't gone to talk to her earlier was because of his doggedness and pride. But what's worse – hurting your ego, or hurting your wife?

He rapped his knuckles on the door, folding his hands in front of him and waiting for it to swing open. But it didn't, and the soft touch on the door creaked it open enough for him to peer inside. She was sitting on the bed, looking extremely interested in a large, soft-cover book. She didn't look up, but hummed softly to acknowledge his entrance.

"Hey Cathy?" he stepped in, closing the door gently behind him and dropping his hands to his side. He curled and uncurled them again, glancing around the room to keep him busy until she answered. She just shifted to a more comfortable position and hummed even quieter.

"Hun?" Jamie tried again, standing on the tips of his feet and trying to peer around her book from his spot in front of the bed. He saw her glance at him over the rim of it out of his peripheral vision, but when he looked over she just pushed the book higher to cover her face. He sighed, rocking on his heels and trying to think of the best way to approach this without upsetting her further.

Incessant begging? Incessant begging.

"I'm really sorry!" he blurted, scrambling clumsily to her side of the bed. He tripped a little, collapsing to his knees in a kneeling position right at the edge. "I know I shouldn't have said and done what I did, and I know it upset you, and I was just being a shit because I bloody am." He brought his elbows onto the mattress and clasped his hands together in front of his face. The sudden motion shifted the bed a little, and Cathy finally gave up, laying her book in her lap and looking at him. His eyes pleaded with her, but she just swallowed, nodding to him as if to go on.

Jamie sighed heavily, flinging himself on his back onto the bed, his feet dangling over the edge and his arms sprawled out. He stared at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath and continuing on. "I'm sorry I didn't say sorry earlier, and I'm sorry for all that I said and for teasing you and for not matching my socks, which I know has nothing to do with this but I know it bothers you sometimes because it screws with the wash.

"And I'm sorry for taping over that morning program you like to watch before work that one time because I thought I wouldn't be home in time to watch my own but I actually ended up having a shortened shift.

"And I'm sorry for always deleting all the internet search history on your laptop after I use it even though I know you like to go through it and find old websites you've forgotten. And I'm not doing anything bad, it's just that I've been watching this _Pride & Prejudice_ web spin-off and I didn't want you to know so that I could reference it and sound smarter. I've actually wanted to get that one off my chest for some time now, so thank you.

"And I'm sorry for going to visit you at work that one time and getting you all hot and bothered before a meeting even though you kept trying to warn me.

"And I'm sorry for being such a jackass all the time, even if you say I'm not, because I know I am and I have no idea why you love me sometimes, but that's not the point, the point is I'm _so_sorry for what I did today and for what I always do, and thank you so much for putting up with me all the time. Furthermore –"

Cathy had been in a sitting position since about half-way through his little ramble, and with half a smile on her lips leaned down to his level, kissing him softly. Jamie's legs straightened on the floor for a second before going limp as he brought a hand to her cheek to keep her in place longer. Cathy grinned against his lips, trying continuously, yet unenthusiastically, to separate as he kept bringing her closer to him. She kept giggling, her chances at speaking being muffled by his lips, which just made her giggle more. She managed a "Jam–" before he grabbed her waist, rolling her under him.

This continued on for some time, just a little playful kissing and tickling. Cathy laughed particularly when Jamie nuzzled his nose into her cheek as he kissed her chin. And he enjoyed when she grabbed the collar of his shirt in both of her small fists, yanking him to her in a way that managed to be gentle and playfully demanding together.

Not a lot of words were spoken, just a lot of occasional pauses to look at one another before laughing in unison and diving back into another kiss. Jamie kept mumbling jokingly, "I'm so sorry –" and "Please forgive me, darlin'." Or even "The hills in this city can be quite unforgiving."

But Cathy would just shake her head, or laugh, or respond with "Shut it, Jamie." And he would shut it, of course. Even when he heard her softly mumbling sentences into his neck that he couldn't make out. Well, he made out _one_, but he didn't want to let her know that he had heard. Because then he'd have to apologize again for teasing her about it, and then she'd probably just hit him.

So he did. Shut it, that is.

"I forgive you a million times over." She repeated, louder this time, and directly in his ear. He grinned toothily, nipping her ear and kissing her temple as she laughed and gripped his shoulders tighter.

But even then, not a lot of words were spoken. Just a lot of laughs and smiles and kisses and looks and hugs. And a glance at the clock.

It would be a full hour right about…

Now.


	10. Subject to Change

Subject to Change

_Context: In the show, when Jamie and Amy are having a conversation, he brings up the fact that he's had a string of failed relationships. The longest was with a girl named Mel, whom he dated for eleven months; she broke it off when she caught him stealing money for drugs from her purse._

_Prompt: Imagine your OTP going for a walk and suddenly Person A's ex/special friend strikes a conversation with them. Person B is jealous and stays quiet most of the time. Person A notices this and kindly tells ex/special friend they have to go. Person A then kisses Person B lovingly and tell them that they're the best thing that happened [to them] (or something like that)._

* * *

soul mate (n.) - simply put; your one and only, the one you're destined to be with, the love of your life, the one you can't live without, your other half

_~ thehostof, Ian O'Shea and Wanderer graphic _

* * *

Melanie Richards had panicked when she'd found out her boyfriend had been filching money from her purse to pay off his drug boss. She knew she'd made the right decision ending things when she had; she didn't need to put up with dishonesty or unclean substances. And so eleven months into her semi-serious relationship with Jamie Bradley, she broke it off with him, giving him a slap in the face and a few choice words before speeding away in her car.

Jamie tried to hide his broken heart by acting relatively unfazed. He refused to let himself sulk or cry, especially since he'd been busted for drugs shortly after. He'd pushed the experience out of his mind and suppressed any shred of emotion that remained.

From time to time he'd remember her, paralyzing himself momentarily with thoughts of their time together. He would quickly distract his mind with other things, but she would linger there, unwanted, in the darkest corners of his memory. He wondered sometimes if she would ever truly leave him, if he really could leave her behind.

He'd had the engagement ring for a couple of weeks when she walked by the park bench.

"Didn't know you liked quiet places, Jamie," she said.

He glanced up, swallowing the yelp that threatened to escape him. "Well, you know me. I can be unpredictable."

"Of course." She cracked a smile. "So how've you been? 's been ages since I last saw you."

"Oh, you know. My life's been plastered over every newspaper this side of Leeds, as well as the rest of the country."

She rolled her eyes. "Guess I shouldn't have asked, then."

"Just assuming you're like everyone else."

"You'd be right. I kept up with your story…more than I would have liked, but I'll admit that I did. Congrats, by the way. 4 million is quite a lot."

"Yeah, well, most of it went to hospital bills and collateral, though Bob was pretty lenient, all things considered." He blew air out of his mouth. "Surprised I still have as much as I do."

"Probably for the best, right?"

"Probably." He glanced at her briefly. "What have you been up to, then?"

"Nothing near as exciting as you. Finished school, got my graduate in primary education, got myself a suitable flat. You know…normal stuff."

"Doesn't sound normal. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that doesn't sound like it was easy."

She was silent for a moment. "It…it wasn't. It just seems mundane compared to what you've been doing."

"And you'd rather be in my place?"

She didn't answer that. Silence passed over them before she spoke again.

"Are you…still buying, Jamie?"

He shook his head. "Not for a couple years now. Feels good. Didn't know what I was missing out on." He bit his lip. "I, uh…sorry about stealing that twenty from your purse. I was…desperate."

"I suppose I can forgive you. You've learned your lesson, I'm guessing."

"Oh, did I ever."

"Well, then. I see no reason to hold a grudge."

"So you didn't…you didn't mean to call me worthless, then?"

"I was…angry, yeah? I think we both said things we didn't mean."

It went beyond that. It went beyond their last moments as a couple, beyond his hurt feelings. There was always one question that came to mind on the occasion that she'd cross it, and now was his chance to ask.

"Mel? Did…did you ever -"

"Hi, Jamie." Cathy shyly wound a strand of hair around her finger. "Sorry I'm late, Emma kept me for a bit and…" She trailed off, her gaze shifting from her boyfriend to the woman next to him.

Jamie was on his feet in an instant. "Er…Cathy, this is Mel. Mel, this is my girlfriend, Cathy."

Cathy felt all the color drain from her face as she realized what was going on. She shakily offered her hand, shaking Mel's. "Nice to finally meet you. I've…heard plenty."

"Wish I could say the same. You work with Jamie or something?"

"Sort of. I'm his former boss's niece."

"So did he ask you out in the frozen foods or something?"

Cathy's eyes widened. "Listen, I…I can see you two have some catching up to do, so…"

"Cathy, it's alright, you can…"

"No…I just…I can just go for a walk, you know." She turned on her heel and walked briskly down the path, leaving the other two bewildered for a moment.

"Did I…?" Mel frowned.

"I sort of told her everything."

"And she's…"

"I guess so." Jamie heavily sat down again. "Even after almost a year together." He stared down the path, catching her form before she disappeared around the corner. "Mel…I wanted to ask you…do you think things would have…you know…worked out…with you and me?"

Mel opened and closed her mouth several times, coming up short. "I…I honestly don't know, Jamie. You know, I…it's just…things turned out so differently than I thought they would. I mean…it's not that I didn't think about it, since we dated for so long. But I think part of me always knew that you weren't investing everything into our relationship."

He nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the corner. "I just always sort of wondered."

"Even if I wanted to pick things up, I wouldn't even try anything. You love her."

"Hmm…"

"She doesn't want to lose you."

"Mmm-hmm."

"You're going to propose, aren't you?"

Jamie jerked, blinking. "How did you…?"

"You're thick, you know?" She laughed, shaking her head. "The second she walked up, your entire expression changed. You looked so sad when she said she had to leave. The two of you have this sort of…glow about you. You'd be crazy not to do something about it."

Jamie stared at her for a moment. "She was with me when no one else was. She visited me every week when I was in prison. She's so strong and she doesn't even realize it." He felt a smile spreading across his face. "She's beautiful and…you're right. I love her."

"This is why we didn't work out, Jamie. You're obviously crazy for her and you're not afraid to express that." She gave him a hug. "You really should go after her. She needs you. Can't very well have her thinking otherwise."

"Right." He stood. "Good to see you, Mel. Take care, yeah?"

"Take care, Jamie."

* * *

He found her sitting on the shore of the only lake in town, hugging her knees to her chest and a few stray tears in her eyes. He didn't say anything, just tugged her to her feet and into his arms. They stood for a moment before Jamie pulled away slightly, taking her face in his hands and giving her one of his warmest smiles.

"Remember when I said that winning the lottery was the best thing that had ever happened to me?" He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "I wasn't really thinking. You have to realize that it's you. You, Catherine Lorina Davies, are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He didn't know if she was going to answer or not; either way he didn't let her. He brought her lips to his, kissing her with increasing fervor and passion. He felt her melting into him, draping her arms around his neck and bringing him closer.

Jamie almost proposed to her that day, but ultimately decided not to. He still needed time to process all that had happened, and didn't want her to think it was solely for her sake and to mend any hurt feelings. No, it was better that he wait to ask her.

It was easy to mourn what could have been with Mel, to imagine the life he could have had. There were plenty of things he could have done differently that would have taken his life in countless different directions, and he found it took almost no effort to ponder a life with his ex-girlfriend.

After a moment, he realized that that wasn't what he wanted to do. Things had happened the way they had for a reason, and he couldn't go back to how they were. He found that he didn't want to; there were things he wasn't proud of, but every time he glanced at Cathy, he knew that the way his life was turning out was exactly how he wanted it to. A life with Cathy was something Jamie wouldn't change for anything.


	11. The Inescapable Inevitable

_A while back, I asked Gina to kill off either Cathy or Jamie, just for the heck of it. I honestly had no idea it would pain her this much to write, and I honestly didn't think it would pain me this much to read. I can proudly say that the following oneshot made me cry, and left me feeling very empty the rest of the day (when I really should have been focusing on my history final, but I got a B in the class, so I must have done something right). It's beautiful and heartbreaking and definitely worth the read._

_**Warning: this is extremely sad.** If you don't want to cry and watch your OTP fall apart, then don't read._

* * *

The Inescapable Inevitable

**He was a broken man, trying to pick up the pieces.**

To ask someone so dreadfully heartbroken to recall the events of previous nights _not_ spent by his deteriorating wife's bedside is an impossible request, and would only further result in even more heart-break. Because he would be unable to do so without disintegrating himself; and to make someone in his state remember such nights would be the final crumble to send him crashing down.

And, even so, Jamie Bradley had a difficult time remembering such a night that he didn't spend clasping his wife's thin hand in his larger and more colored ones, hoping for just another day, another night, another minute, another second.

Those extra day and nights had been granted to him with but one consequence – sleep deprivation. Because when the chance to see the woman you love breathing in and out and managing to at least hold some eye-contact with you was only but a cruel privilege, one would find themself clinging to every flutter of lids to make sure that when they closed they always managed to struggle open again against all odds. He finally knew what they truly meant by "In sickness and in health."

Death, to Jamie, had been someone he had found in his rear view mirror every so often in the earlier years of his adult life. And the irony that the one to prevent the enigmatic horrors in that mirror from being "closer than they appear" was also to be the one laying upon His bed, was more than a man – who was _just_ a man – could think about while still standing. It was hard and depressing. It was sickening.

And how is it that, in just a few years ago, things had gone from seeming bad, to worse, to fantastic, to hopeless and then to an overwhelming feeling of being on top of the universe itself with just the involvement of one magnificent woman? Can someone be such an angelic gift? Can someone change a life so easily and yet so surreally?

Oh, and the children, the poor innocent children. The children clinging to the legs of father and bedside because to cling to their mother would be to break her. How could he let himself sit there and watch them, with their big eyes, their big, wide, complex eyes, not having seen so much in their short lives and yet being able to see so much in the span of mere weeks without even registering? How could he let _them_ sit there and watch _him_, their father, their role-model, their all-to-soon-to-be singular parent disintegrate into a pile of weeping ashes over those of his poor soul-mate?

He tried to think of the future. He always inserted her into it, always the glowing smiling beauty he had always remembered her as, clad in a sundress of radiance twirling around her in a cascade of sunlight as she moved through the grass and weaved through the trees, pointing him to the right way, guiding him by the hand to an always lighter place where he could even find himself faintly shining next to her unmatchable exquisiteness.

These thoughts kept him grounded in his harder times as he took to spending most of his half-awake moments in the uncomfortable wooden chair he had dragged in three weeks ago. He didn't even mind the spine trouble, it was merely a side-effect, a preview, of a much greater illness that would affect him, and unfortunately leave a bigger scar than any other ailment he had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

The stirs were teasing. He sometimes wished for it to end. But never for her to. He wished for the defeat of the tangible pains in his heart, that he knew was coursing through every tissue of her body until it had become an accepted fact of her anatomy, and which he wished nothing more than to just _seize to exist._

He had just shooed the curious children with the wide eyes out of the room so he may spend the inevitable final moments of her life with her. Besides, how could he wish for his children to see this?

She stirred. A more solid stir. She breathed a shuttering breath that made him hold his own until he could almost connect with her breathless state before huffing it out and taking her hand to kiss the back of it. She smiled weakly at him and tried to squeeze his hand lovingly, but only succeeded in jutting out her bones a bit further in her weakly wrapped palm, a mannerism Jamie had come to know as a sign that she needed more contact with him.

He gave her the same weak smile and kissed her mildly sweat-coated forehead where he had greeted with his lips for all of her home-hospitalized period. She responded with a small cough, something that usually only happened anymore when she tried to laugh. It was saddening – that a sound he had grown so familiar with over the years and had always associated with a feeling of pride at its vibration had turned to something more of a burdening echo that one would wish rid of.

"How was your day, then?"

What a senseless and incredibly significant question. Nonchalance was all he had left to keep them in some sort of familiar pattern. The answer itself wasn't as much the desired part, to either of them, as much as it was the time and strength of the response that kept them thinking that maybe they'd have more time. Since, of course, both were continuously running dry.

Cathy made another noise resembling a chuckle, nestling her thinning cheek into his padded palm. He stroked the warm skin with his thumb. It was strange – chilling hands and burning cheeks.

"Can you… closer?" She must've spoken between the small gaps he missed, but it was hard to be certain through the whispery tone she had now taken to. He complied, as it was rare that he felt confident enough to climb onto the always pressed, always clean and always comfortable sheets he was sure to provide for her every rise and fall of the sun.

He was cautious in touching her – not because he was afraid in any form of infection, even though there was none to be spread – but of fear of making her uncomfortable. But she shook her head, or rather shifted her head farther into her pillow, trying to motion for him to come closer. He snuggled in nearer to her, taking her head to his chest and resting it there, stroking her hair with delicate hands. He watched her for a good moment before turning to face the ceiling. He was getting caught up in the snugness of his position ,and the familiarity of the shared warmth and in the tireless tug at his eyelids that threatened to overpower him and force him into the utopias centered around her he had created for himself every night. But to do that would be unfair to her. There are no peaceful thoughts in the granted sleeps of pestilence.

"Is there anything you need?"

"Just for you to hold me."

"But… Really, if there's ever anything else –"

"Hold me."

He swallowed. He shifted. He drew her in both his arms and held her close and buried his cheek in her strewn-about hair and just remained in another bout of silence. He had told himself for a long time now that when the time came for him to say his final goodbyes that he would not shed a tear, not one that would be seen by her. In her final moments he would be as he always had been – steady, reliable and loving.

After a solid and quivering ten minutes of shared silence she broke it with a cough. It started as a delicate cough, as if she were trying to hide it as politely as she could as to not ruin the moment. But his instincts had kicked in and he was jolted from his position.

"Cathy, are you alright?"

Her coughs grew.

"Cathy? Water, do you need water?"

Her face shook to the left and then the right. He cupped her cheek and she tilted her chin to cough again, away from his skin. In her weakest moments she thought of his health, even when hers was supposed to be both of their main concerns. She closed her eyes and his stomach leaped. And then she sighed. His stomach went back to a resting position.

"Jamie…" "Tell me about…" her entire body shivered as she took in a shuttering breath. "about… your day." Her eyes were closed, but her slightly parted pale lips managed to form a small smile. She made an attempt to brush his cheek with her first finger, though it resulted in vain, and it barely so much as grazed his facial hairs, poking his nose with the back of it. He took her hand in his own as before. It felt as if he were taking the hand of ghost – it was colder than his, and the bones of the knuckle were more prominent than like in her palm, jutting from the tightly wrapped sheet of white skin. He practically enveloped her hand in his. It frightened him, seeing her so frail. He could only imagine her fear, and her own grief.

Did she fear as much as he?

He was suddenly reminded of her request and smiled, sniffing. No tears, no stains, no streaks. That was the plan, that was the system, that was the method.

"Well…" he tried to begin. But it was difficult, he found, to find your strongest voice in one of your weaker moments. "I… Brought you your morning tea. Then your breakfast. Set your sheets –"

He was going to continue recalling the day before she stopped him, smiling at him with half lidded eyes. "_You_." She said simply. She wanted to know about him, how he was faring. But what had he done that had been exclusively for him in this time? He'd spent many a sleepless night by her side, or as close to her side as he could get, and tried his best to cater to her every, usually infrequent, whim. What had he done other than that?

And then he thought for a moment – What if she was wondering about something a bit different than what he was actually _doing_. What if, perchance, she was inquiring about something more on the level of his thoughts?

Jamie blinked at her thrice. On the third blink he looked down at their entangled hands, having met each other in an unnoticed twine. He played with the dirtying ring around her finger – he had given up on regularly cleaning it days ago – and took in a recalling sigh, brushing her hair aside with his chin and resting his cheek atop her head as before.

"Well…" he swallowed. "Well, on the instance that I _do_ happen to fall asleep…" he adjusted himself as she struggled to her side to face him better. "I… Well, I remember. When we got married."

Cathy nuzzled closer to his side, her pale eyes trying to focus on his directly, but rather reaching just above his nose. She gave up and instead touched her forehead to his cheek.

"And when Matt was born. Sometimes."

He closed his eyes for as moment. As much as he dreaded looking away from her, he simply had to satisfy the colors splashing across his eyelids when he blinked, trying to show him the fluttering white dress and the small pink face.

He chuckled a little, and she hummed at the vibration of his chest, drawing to it. He stroked her hair and smiled to himself. "Hey, remember our first date?" he laughed again feebly. "I was so nervous. Kind of ridiculous, I was."

"I don't think so." Came his wife's delicate response. He stroked her hair again and ran his hand down her back, over the crumpled silk fabric, feeling the warmer spot on the small curve just above her rear.

"Well, you're my wife." He mumbled with a grin. "You're supposed to think I'm charming."

He kissed her forehead and she beamed. It was a funny little thing, the strength of an unforced smile, and a thing that made his stomach warm and his cheeks go a bit pink. And his Cathy's was the strongest – it could power a lighthouse with its warmth and brilliance, and it was what showed him out of the dimmest of times, times when he thought it was too dark to ever get a spark going again.

She ignited him, his senses, his mind, his circuitry, started a flicker and glow inside him that promised of a happier time, always a happier time, and always a time where he could be sure that it would never fully douse as long as he was with her.

But soon she stopped smiling. It was that pesky cough, pulling her cramping mouth into a different shape and letting out its dreadful sounds. She covered it with her fist, trying to apologize. He hushed her apologies with an embrace, holding her as she shook and rattled at the force of the nuisance that was her illness. He thought not to carry on speaking, afraid of somehow starting her up again as she tried to laugh or respond to his comments.

But then she gripped his ragged shirt in a frail hold, before releasing the cotton and running her palm along his chest. She couldn't look at him – Perhaps the mere weight of opening her eyes was too much for her to handle in her state – and she instead rested her head to his chest as she had even in good health. The mannerism nearly sent him to tears for brief moment. Because, as he knew, casualness was all he had left in coping.

Cathy pawed at his arm as she tried to keep her hand in place there. He assisted her, taking her hand in his and holding it to his cheek. He kissed her fingers, lips lingering for a moment longer as his eyes fluttered. And then she spoke.

"Keep talking?" she questioned in a mumble. "St-ries…"

The utterance was quiet but comprehensible. Stories. Whether it was because she was enjoying looking into his thoughts and seeing the color for herself, or merely because she found comfort in the sound of his voice, was, in the moment, irrelevant. He searched his long since scattered thoughts of love and joy and sorrow and lose, and found only an assortment of moments tangled into an unsolved puzzle.

The night he pointed out a shooting star, and she made a wish, before he surprised her with a flower he had materialized from behind his back. The day she complained of a headache.

When she made it the day's mission to tickle his neck, as it was where he was most delicate, until he stumbled into a fit of the laughter she longed for. The day her legs went weak from under her as she stumbled into a fit of coughs.

The day they met. And today.

But somehow, in this mess, he found one memory that he was able to string together well enough. He couldn't remember what of it was fact and what of it were simply his dreams, but it was a memory, and a pleasant one, and he didn't think it mattered how real it was.

"Pink…" he smiled at the wall. "It was pink." He looked down at, what he assumed, was a confused look on her pale face. "That dress you loved so much."

Cathy attempted a nod and he continued. "Every day we'd pass by that place and you'd fall behind me to look in at it. Once, we even went in." he stroked his thumb on her forehead, into her hairline. "And you'd always play with the fabrics, finger the ribbon, look at the tag and then step out. It was the most bizarre thing. You never even tried it on."

He felt the shiver against his front and gripped her tighter, rubbing her arm up and down to keep it warm, even if the skin was burning feverishly against his palm. "I always asked if you wanted to, but you shook your head. And then we kept walking." His head now rest above hers, nuzzling into her hair and the cushion of the pillow simultaneously. "It_ was_ a pretty dress. I used to think, every time we passed it, 'Wow… Can you just imagine her in that?'"

Cathy's eyes were closed but her mouth was smiling. Her shivers increased, but he continued on. "So, one day, I decided not to imagine. I bought it. And I got a box, and some wrapping paper, and nice little lavender bow. I was so excited to show you, 'cause I knew you'd just love it, which you did obviously." He closed his own eyes and remembered the look on her face as it vividly danced across his eye lids. His lips were warm, she had kissed him then, and he couldn't help but take her hand as she had taken his that day. She pushed the paper to the side and hugged him, bouncing off into the bathroom to put it on.

"I was right. _So beautiful_." He whispered. Then a grin broke out onto his face. "And then Matt came barreling in from the kitchen and spilled juice all over you." He chuckled to himself for a moment, hugging her weak body to him. But then he remembered _how_ weak she was and released her, stroking her hair several times almost in apology. He smiled now. "We laughed 'bout that for years. Took a family road-trip down to the cleaners, all of us, and stopped for ice cream on the way back. What was it, like nearly midnight when we finally went to bed? Fun night…"

He stopped. She wasn't moving much, but her eyes had opened a little. He felt a rush of panic before her eyes started scattering across his face in mild confusion, as if she didn't know where she was. He separated from her so she could have more room. She gripped his hand as tight as her muscles would allow her (which wasn't much) and continued to gaze at him with a rising panic that made his rise too.

"Cathy?" he asked nervously. He touched her hand with both of his. "Sweetie?"

She abruptly changed her view to his lips, staring at them quizzically. The blue danced back to his eyes, before returning to his mouth. Jamie felt more confused than anything at this point. But then his stomach lurched painfully as he remembered a long list of things their doctor had told him.

"Cathy can you hear me?" he choked. She stared blankly at his mouth before resting her head back on the pillow with a light pant, as the energy drained from her. He swallowed sandpaper as she stared wide-eyed and confused at him, not able to process even her own illness as one of her function shut down in her. His fear was coming true. The Inevitable was upon them and there was precious little to do about it, which, for someone like Jamie Bradley, was the absolute highest level of torture, besides losing the people he loved the most in his life, which is just how the Inevitable liked to treat him.

What else for him to do? So he held her. Did it do anything? Well, yes. Maybe when she lost control of her muscles she'd remember the touch of his fingers and of his lips. He kissed her forehead several times, internally reassuring himself that they'd both get through these nest few minutes and that afterwards she'd been in a good place. If a place such as Heaven existed, then no other person, in his opinion, deserved to be there more than Cathy. She was an angel in her own right. And it was much easier to imagine her in a perfect place with no more fear and no more pain and no more pestilence. But no Jamie. Would that be better for her?

"Oh God, Cathy." He found himself mumbling. He sniffed repeatedly, gasping for breaths and then choking on the oxygen he took in. "I love you so fucking much. I love you." She didn't hear him of course. She clung to him as best she could, her eyes on his neck, blinking and innocent and silent, so dreadfully silent, even just a cough would do well for him. But this was not a time to dwell on what he wanted.

Her sight had gone next. He knew because her grip had steadily increased before she just released him completely, searching for him as if he had gone. He found her hand and she held to it, breath rattling and eyes watering and lips trembling. He didn't tear up. He took her as close to him as he could and he held her again. He mumbled nonsense words and forced his lungs to work and heard the repeated word "love" escape his mouth.

He looked down at her, almost to check that she was in fact there, and saw her staring at his shoulder as that was what was directly in front of her. She shook with the force of her sobs and her eyes, her beautiful eyes that lacked the life they once had but kept the warmth he had remembered falling in love with, scattering and darting and blinking and trying not to be so blind as to see just one second of her soul mate again. But they rested. It was hopeless.

She blinked rapidly and shook violently with a breath. He rubbed small circles on her back and just watched her, trying to keep composed. He was thankful for these minutes, he was, but, oh, how he wishes they would _end._ How he wished she could just lay with him and they could rest together and in the dawn she'd awake and be cured and they'd embrace until the color returned to her cheeks and her eyes grew the life he longed for. But the Inevitable didn't work like that. Not for Jamie Bradley. He had narrowly escaped it before, and it would not let him go on unscathed.

"Jamie…"

His heart leapt. She was talking. She was actually talking, she had gotten her hearing back and her sight back and the shivers were gone and her damned fever was cured after all this suffering. Of course, though, they weren't. None of those things were true. But for that beautiful moment they were.

"Jamie…" she repeated. He gripped her tight, finger tips pressed into the fabric of her nighty.

"Cathy!" he whispered graciously, "I'm right here, I'm always here, I'm–" she interrupted him, assuring him that she couldn't, in fact, hear a syllable he said.

"Jamie, I'm scared." Her words were mumbled, the sounds tangling together. She was forgetting how to speak correctly.

And she was scared. She was truly, genuinely scared, and he had never thought she could ever be scared with him next to her, he thought that when he stood with her in front of all those people and said "I do" that that instantly assured that she would _never_ be scared again as long as he was there and, dammit, he was scared too. The Inevitable haunted him and Death taunted him, but Loneliness welcomed him with arms that said "I'm sorry."

And he broke his promise. He cried. It wasn't the most he had cried in his life, but it was by far the worst and the most painful he had. He cried because he would miss her, he cried because he loved her, he cried because she would be taken from the world, from so many lives, from his, from their children, from their families, from the people she had touched and the people who never got the chance to be touched by her brilliance – _He cried because he lived_.

Because she didn't.

She felt the violent jerks of his shoulders and poked his jaw with her unkempt nails as she attempted to wrap her arms around his neck. She fumbled in doing so until he helped her, squeezing her to him and cursing the world and whatever else made her illness beat her. Her hair grew wet with sweat and tears. He gripped her so tight that for a second he actually thought, just maybe, love would actually conquer death and he could keep her with him, cured or uncured, for even just _one more day_.

But of course not. That's not how it works.

He remembered the promise. Not the promise to be strong. The promise the doctor had made him keep, that his family and her family had left unspoken, that he had made with himself at that hospital on that day.

"It's okay. You're okay." His hands shook so aggressively that when he tried to take her hand he was afraid he may shake it off.

"I'm fine."

Lie.

"_We're fine_." Not completely a lie.

They _were_ fine. They were _perfect._ And nothing could change how perfect they were. No illness could prevent them from being _perfect._ Nothing could prevent her from being the most _perfect_ thing in his life, in the _world_, in the _universe_ – noting would stop her from being the absolutely _greatest_ thing to ever happen to him. It was never money, it definitely was never drugs – it was nothing other than Catherine Davies that lit up his world. She glowed so brightly in her life, but she never made him feel ugly or worthless by comparison, she made him feel _fantastic_.

They were so perfect. So perfect. So so so so _perfect_.

"I love you so much." He closed his eyes. "Oh my God, I love you so much. I love you _so much_."

Repetitive. Unheard. His words were as unheard as his touch and kisses went unfelt on her dying skin as her touch started to mysteriously disappear. She was floating now, in a tidal wave of unfelt senses an feelings and emotions, unaware of all of those exact things her husband was trying to give to her in that moment. She was floating aimlessly, waiting for her heart to stop, wishing that she could just feel and hear and see her Jamie again, _one last solitary time_, so she could _hear_ and _feel_ and _see_ "I love you"' from him _one last time_.

_But it doesn't work like that._

"I love you so damn much, just isn't that enough?" Jamie gasped. "_God fucking damn!_"

Another sob came like a tsunami, engulfing him whole as he waiting for the waves to pass. Her hands grew limp. Her eyes grew steady and her gaze solidified at his neck and he fingers began to slip until he took them again, refusing to let them go and refusing to let her leave him. He looked at her. Pale. Blank. And crying. He lips were parted in the slightest of ways and he thought for a moment that he'd get one more word. Just one.

_One_.

"Cathy?" _She can't hear you, Jamie._

He looked into her unblinking eyes. _She can't see you._

He held her still hands and he kissed her still lips and he retracted back to look at her still body. _She can't even feel you._

And this time, he didn't cry. In fact, he smiled. The tiniest of smiles, the saddest, more broken smile, and he brought her to his chest and he rocked her back and forth and he clutched the sheets around them.

"_It's okay now_." He whispered. "_It's done. I'm okay."_

_ Lie._

"_You're okay now_."

No response.

"_We're okay_. _It's gonna be okay_."

_Just keep telling yourself that. Right?_

He closed his eyes, and he held her, unable to sleep but wanting to sleep. Wanting this to end. Wanting to stay intact.

There was a knock on the door. "Daddy?"

_Life's sweet. Right?_

"Daddy, can we come in now?"

_… Right._

He was to be a broken man.

**Unable collect the fallen pieces.**


	12. The Dead Never Leave Us

_My very brief take on the death prompt._

* * *

The Dead Never Leave Us

Bob Davies rested on a plot of land under the largest oak tree in the cemetery of St. Joseph's church. He'd been married to his second wife for four years before his brain cancer had reappeared and claimed his life. His funeral had been five years ago.

His youngest niece insisted that her family continue to visit his grave on the anniversary of his funeral. It became a routine, their own tradition every November. The signs were always the same: Sunday clothes, two bouquets of flowers, getting up early despite there being no crowds.

Her husband saw what this "special" day did to his wife. She was silent for the entire day, pensive and observant. He never knew what to do for her; she refused his touch and shrunk away from the comfort he so longed to give her.

"Leaves are beautiful this year," he remarked, stepping out of the Station Wagon. "Aren't they, kids?"

"Mmm-hmm." They nodded, kicking a few stray maple leaves that lay on the pavement. Their mother remained silent.

It wasn't a long walk to the grave. It was down the path and around the first corner, one among so many empty plots that were saved for future family members. The children split the flowers, clutching them in their tiny hands.

"We miss you, Uncle Bob," they said, setting the violets on the mound of dirt. "We miss you."

After a few minutes of silence, they turned to go back to the car. Their parents were still for a moment.

"I'll take them for ice cream," her husband whispered. "How long do you need?"

She said nothing, made no indication she'd heard him.

"Cathy? How long do you need?"

She blinked, her gaze on some undefinable point ahead of her.

He shook his head, giving her a peck on her cheek and turning to follow their children.

"Twenty minutes."

He stopped, turning his head back. She still hadn't moved from her spot. He exhaled slowly, walking back down the path with heavy strides.

Cathy turned from her uncle's grave, walking to the base of the only hill in the cemetery. There was only one headstone that sat there. She promised herself every year that she wouldn't cry, and every year she broke it.

She clutched the bundle of roses in her trembling hands. "Hey, Jamie."

He'd died early in the morning nine years ago. It was pure coincidence that her uncle's funeral had fallen on the same day. She felt terrible for excluding the rest of her family from this, but they didn't understand. They could never understand.

"I keep asking myself where you've gone. I don't think you ever believed in God, or heaven. So I suppose I'm praying for you, that you're alright." She laid down the roses, one by one. "I'm pregnant again. You should see Greg and Emily. They're growing up so fast. I'm not sure I want another…"

She paused, the wind picking up. She stared at his name, feeling familiar anger rise in her chest.

"I'm the last girl you…you…" Her fingers brushed her lips, tears pricking her eyes. "I can still feel it. Is that why I keep visiting you? I owe you something?" She sniffed. "Do you think it's been easy knowing you screwed everything up? I hate you for this, you know. It's all your fault, you stupid ass!"

She fell to her knees, sobbing. "I don't want to feel so attached. I can't do this anymore. I have a family…I have a life, for fuck's sake. I need to move on. Please let me."

She stood, wiping her cheeks. "I need to leave now. See you next year, you ungrateful asshole."

The wind blew against her head gently, right across her temple. She froze, her eyes fixed on his name again. A smile broke over her face.

"I love you too, James Andrew Bradley."


	13. Best Behavior Part I

_Part II can be found in smut collection, for obvious reasons._

* * *

**_Part I: Imagine your OTP hosting a nice dinner for Person A's boss and their family. They're polite and everyone has a wonderful time, Person A sharing stories about they and Person B's casual, everyday life while Person B finishes up the meal and sets the table._**

_Part II: After a lovely dinner, your OTP wishes A's boss and their family a nice night, and as soon as your OTP is alone again, they practically tackle each other and make their way to the bedroom, undressing as they go and having passionate sex at least twice before they cuddle to sleep._

* * *

"Jamie!"

Shit. He'd forgotten something, hadn't he?

"Jamie, get down here!"

What was it? Iron his suit, keep Matt clean, take the chicken -

"JAMES ANDREW BRADLEY!"

Take the chicken out of the oven.

Fuck.

He ran down the stairs, his tie loose around his neck. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, it slipped my mind -"

"You're lucky I saw the clock." Cathy kicked the oven door closed, coughing a bit at the residual smoke that hung in the air. "I ask one thing for you to do, and you can't even do something that simple."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." He shook his head, quickly knotting his tie.

"Just…make sure Matt's in his nice pants, okay?" She grabbed a dishrag, wiping down the kitchen island for the sixth time (at least from what he'd counted). "I still have to do my hair and set the table and sweep the floor and…" She paused, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Just stay out of the kitchen for a while, alright, hun?"

"Yeah. Sure." He brushed past her, opening one of the cabinets and taking out the nicer plates they reserved for when they had guests over.

"Jamie, what did I just say?"

"Can't you just accept my help and calm down?"

"Calm down?! How can I be calm?" She threw the dishrag to the floor. "Do you have any idea how scared I am right now?"

"I can imagine," he muttered, rolling his eyes and walking to the table.

"You're not funny, Jamie. This is important, you know that, right?"

"I wouldn't have guessed by your constant worrying at every available moment this past week."

"It's very possible that I could be fired if things go wrong."

"Fired for having dinner?" Jamie nearly dropped one of the plates. "You're joking."

"It could happen!"

"I highly doubt that -"

"What do you know?" She grabbed a handful of silverware, shakily setting it next to each plate. "It's not like Tiffany's coming over, and even if she were, I'm sure things would be much more casual."

"Just because she's the manager of a coffee shop doesn't mean we can't treat her with respect?"

"I didn't say that! I just meant -"

"MAMA! DADDY!"

"Can you go see what he wants?" Cathy asked. "I have to make sure the salads are in order."

"Of course." Jamie shook his head. "Not like I'm doing anything productive."

"Shut up and do it."

Jamie bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing a slew of insults as he walked to the living room.

"Daddy, this shirt itches!" Matt had his dress shirt halfway off of his head, his pants on the other side of the room. "Why can't I wear my spaceship pajamas?"

"Mama's boss is coming for dinner, bud." He retrieved his son's pants. "We have to behave for her, yeah?"

"But I want my pajamas!"

"Come on now, Matt, you can wear your pajamas soon enough." Jamie adjusted Matt's shirt and helped him back into his pants. "It's just for a little while. Mama needs us to be good for her friends, okay?"

"Can I have a cookie?"

"After dinner."

"I want one now!"

"Matt, you can have one after dinner, okay?"

"Nooooow." He clung to Jamie's leg. "Pleeeaaaase?"

"Matt, you're almost three. This isn't how big boys act." He tried to walk, grounded in place by his son's weight. "Matthew Jonathon Bradley, I order you to act like the young man I raised you to be!"

"No." Matt clung tighter. "I want a cookie."

Jamie sighed. "I didn't want to have to do this." He leaned down, a smirk growing on his face. "I think I hear something." He paused, pretending to listen. "I think it's the…Tickle Monster!"

Matt tried to scramble away, but Jamie easily caught him. "Daddy, no!" Matt giggled, squirming and unable to say more.

"I'm gonna tickle you silly, Matthew!" Jamie picked him up, tickling his stomach and trying to keep his hold so he didn't fall. "And you can't get away!"

"Stooooop!" Matthew continue to laugh, wiggling in his father's grasp. "Daddy, that tickles!"

Jamie let Matt go, pretending to chase after him. "You better run! The Tickle Monster's gonna get you!"

There was a knock at the door just then, and Cathy came rushing down the stairs. When she'd had the time to run up and apply her makeup Jamie didn't know, but she was suddenly looking very put-together and, dare he even think it without feeling too shameful, sexy. She was smoothing the wrinkles on her dress and taking deep breaths when she caught him staring.

"What?"

"You just…" He blushed a little, looking at his feet. "You look really beautiful, is all."

"Thank you, sweetie." She smiled. "You look very nice." She turned to Matt. "And so do you, Matt. What a lovely shirt you have!"

"I still want my spaceship pajamas."

"Later, Matt, I promise." Cathy exhaled one last time before opening the door.

"Hello, Catherine, dear!" A red-headed woman in her late 30s stepped into the flat, giving Cathy a warm hug. "Thank you so much again for inviting us over."

"No problem at all, Jen." Cathy smiled shakily. "So glad you could make it."

Jen was followed by a stocky man, a little girl in pigtails, and a sulking older girl. "You've met Dan before, haven't you, Catherine?"

"Last time he came to the office." Cathy shook his hand. "Nice to see you again."

He nodded. "You, as well."

"And this is Abigail," Jen said, her hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Tell Catherine how old you are, sweetie."

"Eight!" she said, her voice squeaky.

"Well, aren't you cute." Cathy smiled before turning her attention to the other girl. "And this is Rachel, correct?"

"Just turned fourteen. Say hello, Rachel."

The girl kept her arms folded, saying nothing; she glared at Cathy before studying her shoes.

"Um…dinner will be ready shortly. Jamie, why don't you take them to the living room to get settled, and I'll let you lot know when the food's ready."

Jamie introduced himself to Jen and her family, trying to ignore the sudden nervousness in his stomach. "Nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise. Cathy's told me plenty about you, James."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Of course." She smiled down at Matt. "And who's this little cutie?"

Matt clung to Jamie's pant leg, hiding his face in the fabric. Jamie chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "Matthew, come on now. Say hello to Mama's boss."

He shook his head, peeking out just a little before burying his face back into his father's leg.

"Oh, don't be shy, dearie!" Jen laughed. "I won't hurt you."

"Mummy's nice!" Abigail said from her perch on one of the chairs. "Unless she's yelling at Rachel for not doing her laundry."

"Abigail…" Dan gave her a look.

"But it's true. Mummy will yell so loud, our neighbors call the police!"

"Abigail, that's not true -"

"One time her face got so red, I thought she would essplode!"

"Abigail, dear!" Jen rushed over, gently placing a hand over her daughter's mouth. "Let's not say any more about Mummy right now, alright?" She turned to Jamie. "Sorry about that, she just loves to talk -"

"It's alright." Jamie pulled at his collar. "Quite alright. Matt does that a bit when he's not being shy."

"Do not," he mumbled into Jamie's leg.

"Got you to talk, didn't I?" Jamie chuckled again.

"I'm not shy!" Abigail exclaimed, her mother's hold now gone. "I love people." She started to prance around the living room. "And I dance a lot, too!"

"Abigail, please be careful -"

Dan went flying just then, catching the glass picture frame his younger daughter had accidentally knocked off of one of the side tables. The room was silent for a moment, only broken by Cathy's voice calling them to dinner.

_Thank God_, Jamie thought with a sigh.

* * *

Dinner was going alright so far. Jen and Cathy were the ones who did the talking, unless they were asking someone else a question. Rachel sulked over her food, and Dan exchanged a few looks with Jamie when their wives got into a long-winded conversation.

"So Catherine tells me you work in a coffee shop, James," Jen said in between a mouthful of vegetables.

"Yep. Gonna apply for manager at the end of the month. Pays a lot more than what I've got now."

"And Catherine told you she's starting training next week for a full-time job, correct?"

"Of course." Jamie winked at his wife. "Someone's gotta make a name for themselves in this family."

"But you're famous already!" Abigail, who had been strangely quiet up until this point, looked at Jamie. "You were in the newspaper for winning money."

There was a second of silence before Jamie answered. "You're right, I was."

"And you're already famous. Mummy told us all about what happened."

Jen's face fell. "Abigail, sweetheart, let's not -"

"You took bad drugs and you crashed your car and almost died!"

"Abigail -"

"And you almost killed your boss, too! You smashed his head in."

"Abigail, stop!"

"Mummy wonders how you got to where you are right now, since you were a bad man. Especially married to her." She pointed at Cathy, whose eyes widened and brow furrowed.

"Abigail, that is enough." Jen's face was red, her movements jerky as she walked to her daughter's seat. "I want you to apologize right now -"

"No, it's fine."

Everyone turned to look at Jamie, who didn't look bothered in the least.

"Jamie…" Cathy said quietly.

"Could I tell you a story, Abigail?"

"Oh, yes! I love stories."

"James…" Jen paused, her mouth agape. "I…I'm sorry, I -"

"There was a man a few years back, who was having a very hard time," Jamie began. "He didn't see his dad very often and he was into some very bad things. He needed money, so he robbed the store he worked at and, as you said, smashed his boss's head. But he didn't mean to. He'd been scared. He hadn't been thinking.

"And he did win the lottery, but things didn't get better." His eyes darkened. "The bad things didn't go away, and the man didn't make very good decisions. And he ended up crashing his car, and had to go to the hospital.

"The doctors didn't think he'd get better, but his mum and a few of his friends were there, as well as a very special woman who cared very much for him. She visited him when he was out of the hospital and put in jail for a year, and she gave him hope. He knew things would be okay if she was there with him.

"And after the man was released from jail, he got a job, and he married the woman, and they had a son, and they'll soon have another little one. And the man knows now what his mistakes were, and he's learned from them, and he couldn't ask for a better way to live his life."

The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone was watching Jamie, who continued to eat as if he hadn't spoken. After another moment of complete quiet, Jen cleared her throat.

"I…I'm very happy he got through all that. It couldn't have been easy."

"Trust me, it wasn't." Jamie shrugged. "But life isn't always a walk in the park." He caught Cathy's gaze, smiling. "It helps to have someone there when you really it most."

"Glad things worked out, mate," Dan said. "Don't think I could be that strong."

As they were clearing the table, Cathy pulled Jamie back into the kitchen. "I'm so sorry about all that, I didn't think…"

"Don't worry about it."

"Jamie. What you said out there…that was amazing."

"It's the truth." He pulled her into his arms. "You're a big reason why I kept going. And I cannot thank you enough for all you've done for me."

"You don't have to." She held his gaze before leaning closer, kissing him.

Jamie prolonged the kiss, pressing her closer against him. The blood started to race in his veins as she moaned against his mouth and he slipped his tongue in…

She pulled away suddenly. "There's cake in the fridge," she said, straightening her dress.

"But…"

"And we should continue to be good hosts and serve it." She opened the fridge, handing him a square package. "I'll get the plates."

He turned to walk back into the dining room, glancing over his shoulder at his wife's figure. He swallowed, biting his lip and suppressing his desire.


	14. Seeing

_Imagine person A being blind from birth. They meet Person B when they're older, and they start dating. One day, Person A asks for permission to touch Person B's face. Person B agrees, and then Person A gently touches Person B's face, "seeing" with their hands Person B's features for the first time._

* * *

"Cathy?"

"Yes, Jamie?"

"Could I…er…see your face?"

The pause that followed was awful, and he was about to tell her to forget it when she spoke. "You mean…see it the way you see other things?"

He nodded. "Yes. Please. If that's alright with you."

Her hand took one of his, gently squeezing it; he still couldn't believe how much smaller her hand felt wrapped around his fingers. She must be tiny if her hands were…

His fingers were on a soft, smooth plane. He tentatively moved forward, strands of her hair tickling his skin; a bunched-up, raised piece blocked his way.

"That would be my ear," she giggled. The familiar pressure of her hand was back on his, guiding him upward, over a round, sensitive piece of skin; there was hair there, as well.

"Your eyelid, right?"

"Yep."

"And this would be your nose." His fingers ran over the bridge, pinching it gently; she giggled again. "Very cute."

"How would you know?"

"I can tell by the shape."

"Oh, can you?"

He nodded again. "Yep." He tapped her nose, smiling.

"Rest of me as cute as my nose?"

His fingers brushed over two somewhat-rough lines, her breath on his hand. "Of course." He brought his fingers back to her cheek. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"You can't really see me, Jamie…"

"And that matters?" Her skin was warmer to the touch as he spoke. "I still love you either way."

He froze when he felt the heat of her face on his skin, and the soft touch of her lips on his.


	15. What I Love

_Imagine person B finding out person A is very insecure about their body, and proceeds to tell them everything they love about person A, personality-wise and physically. Stray touches lead to slow, passionate sex, person B still listing things they love, never seeming to find and end._

* * *

Even when she wasn't dealing with the changes that came with pregnancy, Cathy wasn't a huge fan of her petite form or her small breasts. Compared to how she viewed Jamie, she felt inadequate and almost unworthy to be with him.

Jamie, being the ever-observant husband that he was, figured out her sentiments and decided to make her feel better. He confronted her about it one night, causing her to curl in on herself. He pulled her to him, whispering soft words of love and appreciation, telling her every part of her, visible and not, that he so dearly loved, his hands following his words.

Soon enough, their clothes were shed, and he found himself on top of her. They went slowly, Jamie entwining his left hand with her right as he continuously thrust gently into her. He was still absentmindedly listing all that he loved about her, realizing he couldn't quite find an end to his train of thought. He finally found it with his climax, Cathy arching into him as they both released.

As they fell asleep in each others' arms, Cathy gave him a kiss and said, "I didn't know I was so special. Thank you."


	16. Alternate Ending to Episode 5

_My friend Amelia actually thought Camie was somewhat canon, and she was sorely disappointed when she finished episode five. I decided to write an ending that she may have seen if that were true._

* * *

_Beep…beep…beep…_

"His breathing's stable…"

"…massive blood loss…recovery isn't likely…"

"…handcuffs?"

The pounding in his head was making it difficult to keep his eyes open. He just wanted to fade away, if only the pain would go with him. No more of this…

"ICU…good idea…"

"Convicted…difficult case…"

The blackness overcame his vision, and he was thankful to succumb to it.

* * *

It took three days to finally get him into a state of consciousness. Once he was fully awake and able to comprehend what was said to him, he was filled in on what had happened to him.

His name was James Andrew Bradley, born on May 19th, 21 years of age. He'd been in a car crash, his Porsche colliding with a parked construction truck. He'd lost a lot of blood in his forehead, broken his left leg, sprained his right, fractured five ribs, punctured one of his lungs, and gained various bruises all over his body. He was handcuffed to the hospital bed, his sentence being awaited by the court.

His mother was still on holiday with Amy and the kids. Stuart was currently in a holding cell, awaiting someone to pay his bail. No one had come to visit him. He doubted if anyone even cared.

He spent most days sleeping, never objecting to the food that was fed to him or the needles shoved into the veins of his arms. He found himself losing hope.

About two weeks into his stay, the day nurse informed him that he had a visitor. He groaned, thinking it was Officer Newell (who'd been relaying information to the nurses and doctors on his sentence). He considered feigning sleep when his visitor stepped into the room.

It took Jamie a moment to comprehend who it was. He hadn't seen her in such a long time. It seemed odd that she would be the first one to think to visit him here.

"Hey, Jamie." Cathy Davies walked over to his bedside, taking one of the free chairs. "It's been ages."

He tried to nod, but his head still felt hazy. "I 'spose it has."

"You doing alright, then?"

"I've seen worse." He cracked a lopsided smile.

She seemed a bit put-off by his casual attitude. "I, um…Bob told me about what happened, and…I, you know, wanted to see how…if you were okay."

"He didn't need to do that. I'll be fine."

"Jamie…he told me no one's come to see you."

His face fell. "He…what?"

"He's been wanting to come see you, but he's been busy lately. He's been asking about you, though. He knows Stuart's in jail and your mum's away and that you haven't had any visitors. And he also knew that I'd be here for a couple of weeks, so he…you know…suggested I stop by."

"I thought…"

"He doesn't hate you."

Jamie stared at her. She shrugged.

"He told me everything, more or less. And he doesn't hate you. He wants to help."

"Maybe I don't need his help."

"Maybe it's time to stop doing things on your own and accept when someone wants to do something for you."

He sighed in defeat after a moment. "Fine. So…you're here because of him. Big deal."

"Partly." She scooted her chair closer. "I haven't seen you for a while, Jamie. I wanted to talk, if that's alright."

He blinked, smiling a little. "Yeah. I…I'd like that."

They spent the next few hours in deep conversation. Jamie couldn't recall what, exactly, they'd spent so much time talking about. All he remembered was that he loved giving his time to her.

At one point, her hand had reached out to him, and he gently took it in one of his own. It sent a strange jolt through him, and for a moment he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could care. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to learn to let people in.


	17. Cupid's Bow

**__****_Cheiloproclitic -_**_Being attracted to someone's lips._

___Written by Gina_

* * *

**_Cupid's Bow_**

She never realize just how appropriately named it was. He had a much softer V on the upper part of his cushiony lips, and the gorgeous curve of the bottom held the ghost of a natural pout. She had never fully appreciated the loveliness of the shape his mouth took, nor the ever inviting pink tint that was their color. And the way he licked them made her want to lick them too, made her want to tangle her fingers in his chestnut hair and feel the alluring sensation of their smooth texture.

Cupid's bow. And it was true; his soft lips perfectly complimented his striking eyes, the true definition of angelic. And if only it were appropriate for her to stay attached to him, kissing him as she pleased and appreciating the way he kissed her too, wanted to find herself distracted in the stimulating separation between the two rosy lips as he waited – wanted – her to close in again and take his breaths away from him as he did the same. Flushed, swollen, the color that matched her cheeks and her dress and the color of the feeling surrounding them.

Cupid's bow. Because that's what it was, a beautiful flipped arch, separating the two peaks that sloped down to the corners and fanned out to meet again, forming that lovely shape, that underappreciated shape of that talented mouth and those irresistible lips. It was a gift from the angels, it had to be, for there was no other way for such a part of the anatomy to be so perfect on its own, perfectly complimenting, as it does, the rest of the brilliant man that would watch her so intently, as she studied his features the same.

He licked them again. His tongue slid delicately back between the part of the two divine delicacies that were his lips, and she found herself getting lost, confused and yet not at all by the attraction that was holding her to them. She enjoyed when they moved, forming words and shapes that drove her mad with their teasing and their smirking. She knew he was talking to her, and she wanted to listen, but she simply couldn't draw away from the fact that they were so utterly _plush_ and _pink_ and so damn sexy that she just wanted to take her own press them together over and over and over. If he was the bow than, dammit, she wanted to be the arrow.

"… just hung up, I felt kind of bad. Didn't mean to sound harsh, everyone said I wasn't, but I wouldn't know, I've never worked the phone before."

He brought tea to those lips and sipped with them, swallowing the warm fluid, and she watched it flow down his perfect slender neck and she realized she wanted to kiss that too. But then she was brought back to this lips, he licked them softly, practically caressed, and she bit her bottom lip, wondering how that would look with his, as she hadn't seen him do that in a while.

Catering. Was that what he was talking about? She didn't even know people could call in to the café shop. She didn't even know they had a phone.

Cupid's bow. She kept going back to Jamie's wonderfully tempting mouth, absolutely enthralled by their curves and the way they shaped around his perfect white teeth. Why is it that he had the gift of being so perfect and handsome and desirable and was able to just get off scot-free with those faultlessly sculpted lips? Why did she have to crave their touch and their look and have to think about them at the most inappropriate of times?

"Cathy?"

Such as now.

"Erm… Yes, love?"

"Did you zone out? And I was just getting to the good part."

They now pulled at a corner, a familiar smirk that she couldn't even resist when she focused on the whole of him, let alone just the curves and the pull and, damn, the shapes around his lips and his chin and his jaw that framed it all so fantastically and –

"So in short, all I was saying was –"

Hands tangled in hair and fingers brushed over hips and lips moved together, and Jamie didn't get to finish his sentence that afternoon.


End file.
